Just You
by j'adore macabre
Summary: When Travis gets hurt, Wes realizes that there is something important he has to share. Rating for some subject material. Slash.


Wes shoved his hands deep into his pockets, eyes cast down as he looked everywhere but at Dr. Ryan.

"Captain Sutton said there was something you wanted to talk about privately." Dr. Ryan said expectantly.

It was quiet. Ten minutes before group was supposed to start. She was a little stunned when Wes had pulled her into the corner without a word.

"Wes, are you alright?" She laid a hand gently on his arm. "You might find that whatever it is, it's easier to talk about in group."

The Detective took a stuttering breath and shook his head. "We…Travis, oh God." His voice cracked and he covered his face briefly with his hands before giving a heavy sigh.

"You don't have to—"

"I do." Wes said firmly. He cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling in despair. "I wanted…we won't be coming in, Travis and me, for a while. Travis…he was shot."

_24 hours earlier_

"I want the building secured." Wes demanded as he strapped on his bullet-proof vest. "You three cover the rear exit, you four spilt and cover the windows on either side. Travis, we'll take the front."

Travis flashed him a smile as he held his gun ready. "Worried I'll get to him first?"

"Hardly." Wes snorted.

It was an abandoned house, the front door already hanging on its hinges. Tiles were falling off the roof and nearly every window had been broken. They would not have even found him if they had not been able to figure the general location from a clay residue left over from a boot print.

"LAPD." Wes called loudly through the gap in the door. "Come out, Mr. Thompson and we can make this easy on everyone."

"Yeah, because he's so concerned about how your day's going." Travis muttered, feigning innocence when his partner shot him a glare.

"We have the place surrounde—" Before Wes could finish, Travis stepped inside, giving him no choice but to follow. They took a sweep of the first floor before Wes went to the back and motioned the team stationed there to follow him in. The back team took the basement while Wes and Travis took the top floor.

Travis looked at the narrow staircase hesitantly. "Let's get SWAT up there."

"He's a robber and a vandal, not a killer." Wes hissed under his breath.

"_Armed _robbery _and_ he's cornered. Cornered people do crazy things and all I'm saying is I got a date tonight."

Wes rolled his eyes. "If it bothers you that much, I'll go first."

"Whoa, stand down, Rambo, I got this."

"Don't come any closer." A muffled voice cried from around the corner when they made it halfway up. They could not see so held their weapons up and ready. "I _will_ shoot."

"A smart man like you?" Travis replied as he carefully made his way up. "You wouldn't shoot a police officer. Besides, all you've done was rob a couple stores. I don't think you'd be willing to kill a man."

"You're wrong." Thompson yelled. "I did. I killed a man."

Travis turned to his partner and mouthed, "What?"

"Go." Wes mouthed back and gestured to the top.

"He tried to blackmail me." Thompson continued. "Followed me from my last job and offered to keep quiet if I gave him half." The sound of footsteps below told them SWAT was following. "And that's why I'm not above killing you."

The Detectives saw movement but the staircase was too narrow for Wes to maneuver fast enough. Travis aimed even as two shots rang out quickly followed by a third. Thompson fell onto the stairs with a hole between his eyes while Travis slumped onto Wes.

"Travis?" Wes maneuvered his partner down a bit and found blood pouring from a hole in the side of his neck and another in his arm. The gun clattered to the ground. Wes pressed a hand firmly against the hole in Travis' neck as he called out for an ambulance. He sat on the stair with Travis half on his lap, blood soaking through his shirt.

"Better shot…than both of you." Travis grimaced and reached across to put his hand over Wes's. "How bad?"

"Don't talk. The ambulance is going to be here soon."

"That bad?"

"No, it's not bad at all." Wes replied, voice shaking. "Now you'll have something interesting to tell the ladies."

Travis tried to shake his head but stopped at the pain. "Promise me…"

"No, not after last time. You make me keep the worst promises."

"Just don't play poker. You have the worst poker face."

"Shut up." Wes gave a humorless laugh as tears clung to his lashes. "Can you hear it? The ambulance. You're going to be ok, Travis."

"Sir, I need you to let me check you over." The medic from the second ambulance said as he stepped towards Wes.

"What? Oh, yes, of course." The Detective looked down to see Travis's blood had stained his clothes from his chest to his knees. His hands were stained and as he thought about it, he was frighteningly sure that there were spatters on his face as well.

"Travis's surgery was successful." Wes could hear the Doctor say in the back of his mind.

He was fairly young, which did not help the Detective's frayed nerves. Perhaps late thirties with a lean build and brushed back blonde hair.

"Fortunately, the bullet missed his carotid artery." The Doctor continued. "Unfortunately, it did cause some damage to the nerves and tendons. Most of which can be surgically fixed after a few months and he'll need to undergo rehab for both neck and arm. As his medical proxy—"

"His what?" Wes's head snapped up to stare at the Doctor.

Alex took his hand and squeezed in comfortingly. He had forgotten she was there. In truth, he couldn't remember calling her but then there was no one else he needed at a time like this. He took it as a blessing.

"Are you sure?" Wes asked, brow furrowed and eyes red-rimmed. "Maybe you're wrong. He has foster brothers and sist—so many…I have to call them. I don't…where do I start?"

"Mr. Mitchell?" The Doctor called his name softly to get his attention. "If you have a number we could contact his family for you."

"_A _number?" The Detective gave a humorless laugh then sobered almost immediately. "No, I don't have any numbers. I'll call them myself."

"There are…numbers for grief counselors we could give you."

"Grief counselors?" Wes repeated incredulously. "I don't need a…that's for people who died. Travis isn't…he's not dead." He rubbed forehead until it hurt. He needed to take his mind off the situation if only for a second.

Alex thanked the doctor and wrapped her arms around her ex-husband. Wes laid his head on her shoulder and breathed deeply. He wanted to lose himself in her scent, in the memories of better years but he knew he could not because there was no _them_ anymore. Besides, Travis was more important than buried memories and stillborn wishes.

"It's going to be ok, Wes." Alex said soothingly as she ran a hand down his back. "Travis is going to be just fine. Before you know it, he's going to be up and demanding to get back to work."

"It's not alright. We shouldn't have even gone in there. We should have stepped back and let SWAT do their job."

"You two would never. Let someone else take the risk then you get the reward? No. You're too—"

"Stupid?" Wes finished with a sneer. He sat down heavily on the plush hospital chair with the words 'intensive care' in large letters over his head.

"Proud." Alex corrected as she took the seat beside him.

Alex had a list of numbers, foster parents that could or should be contacted. Though Travis was not allowed visitors the first few days in intensive care, a crowd had formed outside his door. The nurses tried to tell them only family but with eight foster families, who was going to leave?

It was five days before Wes had run out of excuses to go back. He could not stand the overwhelming smell of sterilizers, the frank reminder of death. It was Alex that brought him. She dragged him, kicking and screaming right to Travis's door. There was still a small crowd outside in the waiting area. Most was made up of the people from work, the rest was family. A quick look through the window told him that half the police force had crammed themselves into the room. With most of them having already seen their injured comrade, it did not take long for the crowd to thin out. Wes slipped in with Sutton and a few other detectives still there, stomach in knots and wishing he was anywhere else until he saw Travis.

Travis looked up and flashed his partner a smile that made his heart skip a beat. Even with his arm in a sling and heavily bandaged neck, he was just as charming as he wanted to be.

"Hey, Travis." Wes spoke hesitantly as he hovered near the door.

"We were just talking about you, Wes." Captain's voice boomed off the walls effortlessly with years of practice.

"Nothing bad, I hope." Wes forced a grin.

Detective Taylor snorted. "You would know if you just stopped by every once in a while."

Wes frowned slightly, angry at the other detective yet guilty because he knew he was right.

"Alright, boys, that's enough break time. Crime doesn't stop just because Travis decides to take a holiday." Sutton said jokingly. "Try not to strain yourself, Travis. I want my best detectives back as soon as possible."

Wes drew closer to the bed as the others left and gave his partner the once over. "How are you?"

"Tired." Travis's voice came out hoarse. Wes poured him a cup of water from the plastic pitcher at his bedside. "They finally lowered my pain meds. Now, I can think clearly."

"As opposed to when? Sorry." Wes added immediately. "I'm…sorry I didn't come see you earlier."

"Forget it. I wouldn't want to come either. Hate hospitals."

"But you would have. For me, if I was here." Wes sighed and looked away. "I missed you, Travis. Not just at work, you know Sutton made me take some time off. I just… I can't help thinking about if you died back there and all the things we never say. Dr. Ryan's always telling us… well, you know. And we can just pretend this never happened if you want but I need you to know that I like you. No, I _love_ you. I love you so much I hate you."

Travis gave his partner a sidelong glance filled with confusion. "Is that like an oxymoron?"

"No, it's…yeah, sure, it's an oxymoron." Wes rubbed wearily at his face. "Look, I just don't want there to be anything left unsaid. I can't keep this, this _thing_ to myself."

Travis was silent for a moment before he locked eyes with his partner. "We're not right for each other. We barely work well together."

"Is this your way of saying you feel the same? You know what? We can forget this happened. If something like this happens again…I have to let you know."

"You're avoi—" Travis grimaced and touched the bandage on his neck lightly.

"You should rest. I'll get out of here."

"Wes, wait. I actually like being your partner. You know we can't have both."

"I know."

Travis looked at him with a mischievous spark in his eye. "So, maybe no one has to know."

"Would you do that? All those one night stands you could have."

Travis opened his mouth to speak but a sudden pain made him settle for, "Just you."

End


End file.
